


Kiss Me, then Kiss Me Again

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Concerts, Crowd Surfing, First Kiss, Guitarist Derek, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1530950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one mentioned the crowd surfing when they convinced Stiles to join them seeing Wolf Pack.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>The one where Stiles manages to crowd surf right onto stage and into Derek's arms... and Derek doesn't seem to mind at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me, then Kiss Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Tumblr after a night of watching folks crowd surf at a concert. I started writing it on my iPad while there then finished it out that morning. Finally getting around to archiving it here. And as always, I do not own the world or characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to write about them.

No one mentioned the crowd surfing when they convinced Stiles to join them seeing Wolf Pack.

Danny's the first one to go up, hoisted by Jackson and Greenberg. For a moment Stiles can't breathe as Danny wobbles overhead, then everyone manages to get their hands up, pressed along his body, pushing him forward until he disappears somewhere ahead of them in the crowd.

Erica goes next, crawling up Boyd to get high overhead first before she launches herself in a dive out over the crowd. She shouts as they lift her up, tilting her so she can dive forward again, laughing gleefully.

Two down, several to go.

“At this rate, you're all going to abandon me,” Stiles shouts and when Lydia nods, he thinks he has her attention, but it doesn't last long. She puts her arms out and Jackson lifts her like a princess, getting her onto his shoulders before he wades through the crowd. It's Jackson and he acts like he expects them to part before him, so naturally they do, and he moves towards the barricade, Greenberg following in his wake.

Stiles loses sight of them in the crowd. At least he still has... No, Isaac's gone now, sailing somewhere overhead, followed closely by Scott, who won’t let Isaac out of his sight.

“They aren't even that good!” Stiles shouts even though Boyd is the only one left to hear him. “I mean maybe she’s kind of hot,” he gestures at the lead singer, “and the guitar dude’s got that whole broody thing going on, but what's the big deal here?”

Boyd just grins at him. “Up you go.”

Arms wrap around his center and Stiles just has enough time to think _this is a really bad idea_ before Boyd throws him into the crowd.

Stiles flails out, arms spread while he twists in the air and tries to find purchase. Hands reach out, push him up, bouncing him like a ball with no control. He tries to steer, hoping that he can at least end up somewhere near where Lydia still sits on Jackson's shoulders near the front, or at least not get tipped into the pit to be hauled out by security. But it's completely beyond his control and he loses sight of either objective when he's rolled over and panics over almost falling on his head.

He reaches out, flailing to grab onto something— _anything!_ —and when a hand clasps his, he grasps it thankfully.  Someone yanks and he stumbles out of the air and onto the stage, into the arms of the lead singer.  She grins sharply, giving him a flash of far pointier teeth than he expects (or maybe it’s just because he’s still dizzy as fuck). She spins him out and to the side and he trips over his own feet towards the guitarist.

Arms flail out, windmilling to catch his balance, and he ends up shoulder to shoulder with the gruff guitarist, leaning into him thankfully, trying to catch his breath and barely able to stand on his own. There's a microphone right in front of him, and the guitarist growls softly under his breath, and wait… yes… Stiles knows this song. Is he supposed to sing? He opens his mouth, closes it again uncertainly.

He's on stage. With Wolf Pack. A band he doesn’t even necessarily _like_. And they're just going on with their performance and no one is throwing him out. How is this his life?

The guitarist growls again. Derek. That's his name, right? Erica had said something about planning to climb him like a tree if she got the chance. Up close, Stiles can't argue the plan. Even the grumpy, sour look is a turn-on. 

At a third growl, he starts singing, and Derek finally nods, pleased.

His legs are shaking, his knees weak. He turns slightly towards Derek, both to get a better angle on the microphone and to get his arm around Derek's back to help hold himself up. They finish out the song like that, last notes trailing away as Stiles looks up at Derek.

Holy shit, the man has amazing eyes. Stiles swallows hard. "Thanks, dude, for not throwing me off stage." He forgets the mike is still on and his words echo throughout the club; he can hear the shouts he gets in returns and his skin flushes brightly.

“Why would we do that when you’re helping us out so brilliantly?” The lead singer swoops in on them, tugging Stiles away from Derek and wrapping her up in her arms. “I’m Laura.”

“Right,” he says back, and the audience laughs. “I’m Stiles.”

“Well, hello there, Stiles!” she shouts, and everyone echoes it back. It sounds strange to hear his name from hundreds of mouths all at once. “Thank you for helping make our end-of-tour homecoming one to remember.”

He doesn’t get the chance to react before she has his face framed in her hands and she’s planting one on him. His eyes go wide at the cheers and catcalls, and he doesn’t manage to remember _kiss her back_ until it’s all over and she steps away.

“Oh aren’t _you_ a cute one.” The bassist is a girl as well— _Cora,_ he manages to remember. She spins him out of Laura’s arms and into her own, and her kiss lands slightly to the side of his mouth, and he’s _still_ not prepared. The kiss ends before he manages to get his act together and she pats his ass while turning him back towards Derek. “Do you like boys as well as girls, Stiles?”

“What makes you think I like girls?” he retorts, and there are yells in return. He can pick Scott’s whoop out, and Lydia’s loud yell of _he loves girls_. 

Cora grins. “Well, Stiles?”

He blinks twice, trying to get his mental balance, trying to figure out where he is and what he’s saying and _oh God_ there’s everyone staring at him. He catches Derek’s eyes, sees the absolutely expressionless _look_ that Derek gives him, and Stiles manages to stammer out, “Both. I like both.”

“Do you want to kiss my brother? So you can say you made out with the entire Wolf Pack?”

“Your brother looks like he’d rather eat me than kiss me.”

Cora barks out a sharp laugh. “I’m sure he’d love to rip your throat out with a kiss, right Der?” The way she says it, it comes out sounding more like _dare_ and Derek growls softly in response.

“You want a kiss, get over here,” he says, and Stiles goes before he really thinks better of it.

This time he’s prepared, or at least he _thinks_ he is before Derek’s pulls him in, covers his mouth, and _kisses_ him like the world is ending. Stiles feels fire down to his toes and _this_ time he remembers to kiss back, tongue diving into Derek’s mouth as he fists his hands in Derek’s sweaty shirt and pulls himself closer. There are catcalls and cheers but Stiles ignores them, because holy _fuck_ can this guy kiss.

Then it’s over and Stiles is being handed off to a roadie and pulled into the tech pit, surrounded by guitars and other equipment. Someone hands him a bottle of water that he drinks gratefully.

He reaches for his pocket—he needs to text Scott—and comes up empty. _Fuck_ , he must have lost his phone somewhere when he was tumbling ass over head in the crowd. Maybe he’ll get lucky and someone’ll turn it in, or else he’s going to have to ask his dad for a loan because a new phone was _not_ in his college freshman budget.

In the meantime, he might as well watch the rest of the show from the wings, right up until the point when they pull him back, out of the way of Wolf Pack as they come off stage for a quick drink between the “last” song and the encore. He’s just managing to find his way back to the main part of the club when someone comes up behind him and presses his phone into his hand.

“Found it on stage, dude,” the guy says, and Stiles thanks him with a wave.

“Holy _fuck_.” Scott pounces on him in a full body hug. “That was _amazing_.”

“So jealous,” Erica says. “Was it as good as it looked?”

“You should have kissed Laura back. If I had the chance, I would’ve whispered _threesome_ ,” Lydia muses. “I mean honestly, she’s gorgeous.”

Stiles lets the talk roll around him because it’s already surreal, like it never happened. He can feels aches starting to form from the beating he took while rolling across the crowd, and his wrist aches—Laura’s grip was _much_ stronger than he’d have expected from a slight woman like her. He makes sure everyone gets loaded into cars, then drops off Scott and Isaac who rode with him.

It’s only later, _much_ later, when he’s tucked up in bed and his mind still reeling, that he finally takes out his phone and looks at it. There’s a text sent from his phone to a number he doesn’t know, and all it says is _Stiles_. He frowns at it, then texts the number again. 

_So. Apparently I texted you my name. Who is this?_

He doesn’t figure he’ll get an answer back, since it’s three in the morning, but it’ll come back eventually. Maybe. He’s surprised when it buzzes almost immediately.

_Derek. My sister thought I needed your number._

Not possible. This is not at all possible.

_Derek from Wolf Pack?_ Stiles stares at the phone, waiting until a picture comes through from the number showing him the guitarist lying on a bed, tired and scruffy. It’s definitely Derek, the same guitarist he just sang with and kissed unexpectedly. _Did you want my number?_ Stiles asks.

_Maybe._

Just the one word, then silence for long enough that Stiles starts to zone out, finally slipping from over-ramped into almost-unconscious. The buzzing of his phone brings him back.

_We’ve got a week’s break before anything else and we’re staying in town. Lunch tomorrow? Diner._

That is… not what Stiles expected. He thumbs back one word— _yes_ —then sets his phone aside. It’ll still be there in the morning, and maybe it’ll turn out he’s dreamed it all. Or maybe not, and if he hasn’t, then he’s having lunch with a rock star.

Maybe crowd surfing isn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> If you to find me, come visit me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
